Fake Smiles
by Lolita99
Summary: "I used to be happy. I was popular and smart and people liked me, they actually liked me. Isabelle was my best friend, because that's what a twin is. We would share everything, tell each other everything, we trusted each other completely. But that was our problem. We trusted each other too much. And when the lies came, there was nothing stopping her from believing them."
1. Cat Eyes

Hey, I'm pumped because this is my first story on here. I read a lot on this site and I write separately, but I've never uploaded a story on here before. I'm really excited to see how this turns out. Please review! Tell me what you like and don't like. I have thick skin, so don't sugar coat it. Tell me what you want to see later on in the story, because I write as I go. The rating may change later on in the story *winks*. Enjoy!

~Lolita99

Disclaimer: I don't own TMI or anything other than the plot. :)

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><p>Chapter 1: Cat Eyes<p>

I wake up thinking of gold.

Skin like the sun, eyes like pools of caramel, hair like spun gold. Beautiful.

I stand up and look at the creature in the mirror.

Hideous.

Why couldn't I be more like HIM. Shining bronze skin instead of the thin, translucent white. Light fluffy hair instead of oily raven. More like him. That would solve everything. I could party and slack off in school and fuck girls and no one would bat an eye because I'm so beautiful. I could be their favourite son even though I'm not their blood. I could be normal. No, not normal. I could be perfect.

I look away from the mirror to take a piss. Shower or no shower? What would Jace do? Shower. He's always been like that. Clean. Everything has to be clean and tidy and fresh. The opposite of Isabelle whose room is a tsunami of glitter and worn clothes. My room stays clean. Mostly because it has so little personality to it that it could be a guest room. Maybe I should buy curtains.

"ALEC!"

No shower this morning. I get dressed in a pair of loose jeans, a black sweatshirt and converse. I exit my room and walk downstairs to see Isabelle wrinkle her nose at me.

"Did you brush your hair? Did you even shower?"

I look at her blankly. She sends Jace a disgusted look. He shrugs.

"Whatever, robot boy. Just get in the fucking car. I don't want to be late."

I roll my eyes and she laughs. "Ooh, Alec! Finally showing some personality." I shut the door and get in the car. Breathe. In. Out. Don't cry you fucking pussy. You love her. And somewhere deep down she loves you, too. It wasn't your fault. Not your fault.

Isabelle and Jace come out and load into the car. Jace turns to look at me from the passenger seat and asks, "Are you feeling alright, Alec?" I nod and attempt to smile. Fake it 'til you make it. Isabelle starts the car and speeds out of the driveway. She's always been a reckless driver. Ever since the accident, I can barely bring myself to enter a car, much less drive one. I have always been amazed at how she can drive so recklessly, especially after Max. I squeeze my eyes shut. We don't say his name. I don't think we can. I clench my fists, open my eyes and catch sight of Isabelle's glare through the rearview mirror. She always stares at me like that, like she can see through me and all of my secrets. It's very unsettling, but I try to endure it for both of our sake because, for the most part, its the only form of communication we have. She glares and I make puppy eyes. She turns away and once again her attention is on the road. Jace is turning up the volume on some terrible rap song, but I ignore him and put in my earphones. I smile slightly as The Smiths start playing on full volume.

We pull into the student parking lot and before I can even take off my seatbelt Isabelle and Jace are halfway to the school's front entrance. I sigh and take my time exiting the car. Taking a moment to stare blankly at the front of St. Raziel's, I realize that I'm ill prepared to go back to this hell hole. Breathe. I walk inside and get my schedule from the desk worker. AP Literature, German 3, AP European History, Lunch, AP Calculus, AP Psychology, and AP Physics. I roll my eyes. My only distraction is school. While other kids party and drink to get rid of reality, I throw myself into work. I easily breeze through advanced classes, so the only way to keep myself interested is to take the highest levels available. I've always been a lazy person and before the accident it showed in my grades. I would pass every test but end up with a low average because of my avoidance of doing my classwork and projects. That all changed last year.

I take a deep breath and go on a hunt to find my English class. I walk down the hallway keeping my head down to avoid awkward eye contact, but despite my attempts at staying below the radar, my clumsiness betrays me. A boy with spiked hair and too tight jeans walks down the hallway backwards yelling at a blonde girl. By the time I look up to assess the situation, it's too late. The boy rams straight into me, knocking me to the floor. Ouch. He turns around with wide eyes and an O shaped mouth and starts laughing. A rich, thick sound that makes my fingers tingle. By the Angel, he is the most attractive person I have ever come across in my short 16 years of life. He has spiked black hair with blue dyed tips, dark tanned skin, and slanted green-yellow cat eyes that seem to shine with magic. I stare up at the god dumbly. He reaches out a ring covered hand and smiles sweetly at me. "Sorry, gorgeous. That was my bad." My gaze shifts between his outstretched hand and his Adonis-like face before lightly taking his hand and pulling myself off the floor. We stare at each other for another second before the warning bell rings and I break eye contact. "Okay, cutie, we should get to class. Don't want a tardy on the first day of school, do ya?" I give him a confused look because that's the second time he's hinted at me being attractive. He waves and then rushes down the hallway in the opposite direction that I'm going. I look after him for a moment before continuing to my class.

I spend the first half of my day fantasizing about cat eyes and shining teeth. He has to be a new student because I would have definitely noticed someone like him walking the halls. I spend lunch in the library because I don't want to cause a rift between my remaining siblings. I know exactly how the scenario would play out. I would be sitting at a table alone, reading a novel, and Jace would approach me. He would insist that I sit at my old table with all of my old friends and try and get involved with my old life. He doesn't realize that there is no going back to that, but I would agree, because who could say no to that face. I would sit next to him and glance up at my twin sister to see her slam her tray and leave the table. I would stare after her longingly and spend the rest of the day crying in a bathroom stall. Not ideal.

The bell rings to end lunch and I stand up, pulling my headphones out while walking to my next class. I enter the room and look around to see about three filled seats. I take a seat in the back corner by the window and look up to the front of the classroom. Mr. Morgenstern is probably one of the most interesting people I have had the chance to talk to. He is a strange man with an obsession with obsessive habits and reading people's emotions. I smile slightly, happy because of all of the psychology teachers I could have gotten, Morgenstern is the best. I rest my head on the desk, watching the door to see who's in this class. A few of my old friends enter and smile and wave at me but keep their distance. I'm thankful. A few seconds short of being late, the cat eyed boy from this morning runs into the classroom with the blonde and takes the seat next to me. "Hey, Blue Eyes. Fancy seeing you here," he smiles sweetly at me and I smile back. The blonde girl, Camille I think, makes a confused face at him and he turns towards her so that I can't see his face. She rolls her eyes at him and whispers, "Psycho." Puzzled, I turn my attention back to the front of the classroom.

Morgenstern explains the syllabus and our first assignment. We are supposed to pair off and find out as much as we can about our partner without directly asking. I look around the room for the reject who would end up my partner. I expected Camille to partner up with the beautiful boy, but as I looked around, I realized that she's across the room, sitting on some jock's desk. I look over at the boy, surprised to find him staring at me. "Hey partner, I'm Magnus Bane. What should I call _you_, darling?"

This is going to be a weird year.

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><p>Thanks for reading! Please review and tell me how it was.<p>

~Lolita99


	2. Squeeze

Hey, sorry about the long wait. IT'S CHRISTMAS BREAK! I'm off skiing and trying to beat my Nastar record. :) I just got sponsored by Vitamin Water so there's been a lot of paperwork and not enough laptop time. I'm hoping to update a lot quicker than I have been. Thanks again for reading my story and I hope you enjoy the next chapter. Tell me if I do something wrong that you don't like and I may possibly consider changing it. Remember, all criticism is good criticism (unless you're just being a rude fucktard. In that case I may break your computer with my superior hacking abilities *que evil laugh*)

Disclaimer: I don't own The Mortal Instruments yada yada you get the idea. Enjoy.

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><p><em><strong><span>Magnus<span>**_

Welcome to HEll.

That's what should have been written in big white letters on the "Welcome to New York" sign. I love it already. There are so many people in New York just waiting to be fucked over. I try to suppress a smirk as I turn to look at my best friend (and brother) Ragnor in the front seat. When his eyes meet my gaze I can tell he's uncomfortable. And afraid. I've never thought of myself as a scary person, but after digging deep enough to find the real person under the mask, I suppose he has the right to be uneasy.

Or even terrified.

I laugh to myself and he turns his attention back to the road.

"You know why we have to do this, right?" he asks.

I roll my eyes, "Yeah, Rags. I know. We had to get out of that place because it was 'killing me slowly' and you didn't know how to deal with my 'episodes'. So of _course_ the answer is to up and move TO A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT STATE DURING MY LAST YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL. Well, fuck you."

Ragnor looks at me with wide eyes.

"You know that what you did is not okay in any way shape or form, right? If you can't see that then you're even more fucked up than I thought." I turn to him and glare.

"We both know that bastard deserved it."

Ragnor grips the wheel tightly and looks towards me. "Magnus, no one deserves _that_."

I roll my eyes, "Whatever. What city are we staying in anyways?"

He sighs. "Brooklyn."

"RAGNOR HURRY UP OH MY GOD YOU'RE TAKING LONGER THAN ME WHAT COULD YOU POSSIBLY BE DOING IN THERE?" I continuously bang on the washroom door. It took me a while, but I finally convinced Ragnor to pull the stick out of his ass and come to a club with me.

"Gimme a minute, Mags!"

By the time we make it to the club, the place is packed. We wait in line because we're new to the city and my sheer awesomeness has not yet been recognized. I roll my eyes. By the end of the summer the bouncer will be bowing at my fucking feet. I chuckle at the thought and Ragnor nervously turns to me.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing."

"Two vodka tonics!"

The busty brunette bartender looks towards me and holds out her hand.

"Do you take Visa?"

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. "Cash only bar, honey."

I smile brightly, "You're a fucking ugly cow and you should pray on your whore of a mother's grave that I don't lean over this counter and rip your throat out with my bare hands."

I shake the thought out of my head and reach for my wallet.

"Heyyyy, Ragssss! Look over there. That blonde is soooooo sexy. Oh! She's looking over here. Definitely not at you! Should I go talk to her? Its been a while since my last fuck and I'm getting blue balls. I'm gonna go. Don't wait up for me."

I look away from a sulking Ragnor and stumble towards the little blonde on the dance floor. Ragnor has always been a depressing drunk. Alcohol causes him to contemplate his life choices. The blonde is giving me sex eyes. She's wearing a tiny silver dress and stiletto heels. I walk up to her and grab her waist. She turns around and grinds on me. After a bit of dancing I turn her around and pull two pills out of my pocket. She smiles and opens her mouth. One for her one for me.

The rest of the night is a blank.

I wake with a start and look around. I'm in a california king bed with burgundy silk sheets on it. Naked. I'm very naked. I look around for my boxers and pull them on. After exiting the giant room, I almost vomit at the size of the house. More like mansion. It's very modern, wide open space and windows everywhere. I feel like I'm in a fishbowl. I tiptoe downstairs, scared to touch anything and soil it. I hear some noises in the kitchen so I poke my head in. The blonde from last night is standing there in her underwear nursing a cup of coffee. She turns towards me and smiles slightly. Her eyeliner has melted off under her eyes making her kind of look like a sexy raccoon.

"Hi, I'm Camille."

Camille and I never fucked again after that night. But we did become friends. Great friends. She reminds me of myself. We're both sick people who get off on other's pain, I just tend to hide it better. By the end of the summer we owned the city. Anyone who is anyone knows who we are. We tear New York apart looking for new opportunities and crazier parties. We are the king and queen of the world. We practically own half the state.

The week before our final year in high school, we decide to indulge in our favourite pastime, blowing shit up. By the time the abandoned building completely caught fire we are across the street sitting in the grass, her head in my lap, both of us watching the show. The smell of gasoline and ash fills our nostrils as we breathe in the hot air. I stare up at the grey clouds now filling the sky.

"Magnus, when we go back to school, will everything stay the same? You're not going to get tired of me like everyone else, right? Because people do that. Leave me. Maybe I'm too cocky or I could just be a straight up bitch, but you like me, yeah?"

"Yeah. I like you. There aren't many people I can truthfully say that about."

"Me neither."

I look down at her, instead of her usual outfits she's dressed in a pair of black jeans and a loose grey t-shirt with a few holes in it. Her face isn't drenched in the muck she calls makeup and she looks truly beautiful. Her blonde hair is fanned out across my lap and I catch sight of a spray of freckles that stretches across her delicate nose. Her eyes are closed, eyelashes resting against her cheeks and at that moment she looks so innocent and young.

It makes me want to wrap my hands around her swan neck and squeeze.

Hard.


End file.
